Wanting More
by whowhatsitwhich
Summary: She'd wondered about this moment, thought about it, worried it like a toothache. All the maybe and might be and meant to be wound up in a tight little package ready to explode at the slightest provocation. Written for the USS Caryl Word Prompt fanfic/fan art challenge on Tumblr.


Wanting More…..

She'd wondered about this moment, thought about it, worried it like a toothache. What would she say? What would he? Could she let go and just let it happen? Could he? Where? How? When? All the maybe and might be and meant to be wound up in a tight little package ready to explode at the slightest provocation…a lightning laced sky, a thunder-clap, fireworks in the blood. Nothing could have prepared her for the real thing...the taste, the touch, hearing his breath coming short, smelling the musk and sweat that belonged solely to him, seeing him come apart as she explored him in turn. Here and now, she had him under her hands, in her arms, pressed together head to toe. And despite it all….she wanted more. So much more.

She craved him the way she wanted air. It was necessary. His lips skimmed the line of her jaw, dropped to the fluttering pulse point in her throat before ascending to trace the whorls and curve of her ear. He was gentle...oh so gentle with her. He treated her like a porcelain doll that would fall apart if he lingered too long, held on too tight. He pulled away, jaw clenched as he fought to slow down, to hang on. His blue eyes sought hers, asking and reassuring by turns. Do you want this? Want me? Can I? Will you let me? Will this change things between us? His lips found hers then, tender and soft and slow. It felt like a promise, a glimpse of something vague on the horizon and not the passion she expected and, in truth, that she wished for with everything she was. To have him, hot-eyes and demanding lips, and knowing that she alone brought that out was a heady thought, an addictive drug. To see him lose that ironclad control. That, oh that. She wanted to see that and revel in it. She wanted him but even more, she wanted to see him wanting her.

Despite fifteen years as a wife, she had only the vaguest notion of how to go about getting what she wanted. Sex had never been about her or her needs. She was meant to submit, to accept, never to enjoy. Never to want. Here and now, she was free to do as she wished but didn't have the words to ask for it. On impulse, she tangled her fingers into the dark strands at his nape and canted her hips up. He settled between her thighs, his weight pressing her firmly into the sway back sofa they rested on. There. Oh yes. Right there. The words flickered like heat lightning through her mind but the only sound she made was a muted murmur of approval.

Her throat arched, their mouths fitting together like puzzle pieces. She went left and him right, the smooth slick slide of their tongues becoming rough and needy as both got caught up. Yes, she silently urged him on. Like that. Just like that. He fisted the cushion beside her head, groaning long and low as her legs twined around his hips, mirroring his every move. He tore their lips apart, ragged breath hot against her skin as he buried his face in her throat. "Give me a minute," his muffled voice was tattered velvet. She shivered as much for the sound as the way air felt moving over her skin. She didn't want to give him time to settle, to let the surging rushing eddy of emotions go out like the tide. So for the first time she acted.

Her fingers cupped his chin, lifted his mouth to hers, held him there as she savored and then savaged him. He tried to head her off, to question what and why but she didn't want to talk. There would be time for that later. They could and would figure it out. Right now, the words didn't matter. Nothing did except the way he made her feel and the look in his eyes when she finally broke for air. Flushed and flustered. Bee stung lips and color riding high in his cheeks. "Damn," he breathed out. "Carol, I...uh…"

"Don't do that," she whispered. "It's okay. We're okay."

"I don't wanna hurt you," his worried tone made something turn over in her chest as did the hesitant way he watched her from beneath his overgrown bangs.

She pushed them aside let her fingers wander over the lines and planes of his face as she offered up a tentative smile. "You won't. You never could. I know that."

He gave her a funny little half-smile by way of reply and then bent to string a line of kisses down the side of her throat. She trembled, let out a shuddering breath only to lose it altogether as he nipped her ear lobe playfully. She felt more than saw the smile widen to a grin as her reaction registered. "You like that," he observed. His fingers curved under the hem of her shirt and splayed over her stomach. The muscles quivered under his hands. "And that. What else do you like, Carol?" His drawl turned the words into a honey-tinged growl…slow and heavy and sweet….like the blood bubbling in her veins. "What do you want?" He demanded shortly, tipping her chin to catch her eye.

For the first time she faltered as doubt and indecision took hold. He didn't push or pry. He waited her out. Let her find her own way. Let her decide whether she wanted to let him in. "I want you," she said softly. "And I want to see you wanting me."

Blood rushed into her cheeks, mortification setting them aflame. She'd never been this forward, had never been in a place where she felt like she could. But that was then and now was something completely different. He tugged her in, held her close, and gave her exactly what she asked for. He was still gentle, still careful, still tried to protect her. But with every kiss, every touch, every whispered promise…he let her know it was okay to want, to hope, even to love. The whole wide world was hers for the taking and all she had to do was ask.

A/N This was written as a fill for the USS Caryl Word Prompt fanfic/fan art challenge over on Tumblr. Please stop by and show them some love for all they do. I can be found there as well at whowhatsitwhich...stop in and say hi. Thank you for reading.


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